Bakura Todd The Demon Barber of Domino City
by Shinju Wyrde Heterodyne
Summary: Written off the screenplay of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Based off the same storyline as KSS and NLTOG, although with a few more colorful characters of my own creation. R
1. Chapter 1

Marik sighed, taking in the sights of Japan, his second home. Looking at the city as the ship pulled into port, the wind blew slightly through his blonde hair. There was no reason that it had to be so bloody cold this night, but, it was. Like something straight out of a horror novel (or something out of a bad fanfic). But, it didn't seem to bother him.

"_I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders _

_From the Dardanelles _

_To the mountains of Peru, _

_But there's no place like Domino…"_

"_No, there's no place like Domino…" _ Turning, Marik blinked at his companion. The white-haired man had one black streak in his hair, arms crossed over his chest and brown eyes watching the shore with disdain and his voice filled with scorn.

"Mr. Todd?" Marik asked in slight surprise.

"_You are young…life has been kind to you. You will learn…"_ Todd turned to him watching his amethyst eyes with a…little bit of pity. "_There's a hole in the world _

_Like a great black pit _

_And the vermin of the world _

_Inhabit it _

_And its morals aren't worth _

_What a pig could spit _

_And it goes by the name of Domino. _

_At the top of the hole _

_Sit the privileged few _

_Making mock of the vermin _

_In the lower zoo, _

_Turning beauty into filth and greed. _

_I too _

_Have sailed the world, and seen its wonders _

_For the cruelty of men _

_Is as wondrous as Peru, _

_But there's no place like Domino!"_ Running a hand through his hair, he stepped off the ship, Marik following after him. "I beg your indulgence, Marik…my mind is far from easy. These streets are filled with shadows."

"Shadows?" Marik stared at his friend in surprise, blinking. Bakura nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"_There was a barber and his wife,_

_And she was beautiful._

_A foolish barber and his wife,_

_She was the reason for his life,_

_And she was beautiful,_

_And she was virtuous…_

_And he was…_ " He sighed, shaking his head, "_Naive…"_

His eyes closed as Marik stared in him in rapt interest. He remembered a day when he and his beloved Kara had been together, in love, with their one-year-old daughter, Takara.

"_There was another man who saw_

_That she was beautiful._

_The heartless maker of the laws, _

_Who with a gesture of his claws,_

_Removed the barber from his plate _

_Then there was nothing to do,_

_But wait and she would fall,_

_So soft,_

_So young,_

_So lost,_

_And, oh, so beautiful."_

He remembered the damn Pharaoh, who had stalked his Kara, had had his idiot friends pull him away from his wife. And then he as interrupted.

"And the lady? Did she succumb?" Marik was pulled into the story, wondering to the end as any child might do. Bakura's eyes opened as he looked out towards the streets.

"_That was many years ago,_

_I doubt if anyone would know…_ " He turned back to Marik with a small, forlorn smile, "I owe you my life, Marik. If you hadn't spotted me, I would have been lost in those cursed sands forever. Thank you." He lifted his bag to his shoulder, preparing to turn and leave.

"Will I see you again?" Marik asked, looking in concern at his grieving friend.

"You might find me, if you like, on Fleet Street." He held out his hand. Marik shook it, and they parted ways. Though, the blonde did still wonder about his friend, and how well he would fare in the city that had caused him so much pain.

Bakura wandered down the streets, anger and rage flying across his features. "_There's a hole in the world,_

_Like a great black pit,_

_And it's filled with people_

_Who are filled with shit,_

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it…"_


	2. Chapter 2

He stopped, seeing his familiar home. It appeared imposing and dead, though there was an appearance of someone living there. Opening the door to the lower level, he spotted a redhead working.

The bells jingled over his head and the girl looked up, green eyes locked on his face.

"A customer!"

He blinked a moment in shock, before turning to walk out.

"_Wait, what's your rush,_

_What's your hurry?_ " She stabbed the knife into the counter, shocking him a moment, "_You gave me such a-"_ she wiped her hands on her apron, _"-fright,_

_I thought you was a ghost,_

_Half a minute, _

_Can't you?_

_Sit?_

_Sit you down!"_ She set a hand on his shoulder, pushing him into the chair, _"Sit!_

_All I meant was,_

_I haven't seen a customer in weeks._

_Did you come here for a pie, sir?_ " When he nodded, she seemed to dust off one of the pies sitting on the counter. Which honestly did not appear that appetizing, now that he looked at it.

"_Do forgive me,_

_If my head's a little vague._

_Ugh,"_ She made a sound of disgust, plucking something off the pie in her hand, _"What is that? _

_But, you'd think we had the plague,_ " She stomped on whatever it was, _"From the way that people,_ " She flicked it off the pie, again with her finger. Bakura was starting to wonder if the little chatterbox was mad.

"_Keep avoiding_ -_"_ She rolled her eyes, slamming her hand on it, "_No, you don't!_ " Cleaning off her hand, she shook her head, _"Heaven knows I try, sir,_

_But no one comes in, even to inhale,_

_Right you are sir,_ " She set the pie she had been battling with in front of him, "_would you like a drop of ale?_ "

When he nodded she sighed and continued. _"Mind you, I can hardly blame them,_ " She seemed to lament as she poured, not minding Bakura's silence, _"These are probably the worst pies in Domino,_

_I know why nobody cares to take them-- _

_I should know, _

_I make them. _

_But good? No, _

_The worst pies in Domino-- _

_Even that's polite. _

_The worst pies in Domino-- _

_If you doubt it, take a bite." _ He dared, taking a bite. He must have reacted, since she just shook her head and handed him the tankard.

"_Is that just disgusting? _

_You have to concede it. _

_It's nothing but crusting-- _

_Here, drink this, you'll need it,_

_The worst pies in Domino_ " She handed him the ale, which he gratefully swigged down. The redhead wandered back to the counter, working on her next pie. Bakura shook his head.

"_Well, it's no wonder with the price of meat,_

_When you get it,_

_If you get it. _

_Never thought I'd live to see a day_

_Men'd think it was a treat,_

_Finding poor animals_

_That are dyin' in the street…_

_Mrs. Gardener has a pie shop, _

_Does a business, but I've noticed something weird…_

_Lately, all her neighbors' cats have disappeared._

_Have to hand it to her,_

_What I call enterprise_

_Poppin' kitties into pies._

_Wouldn't do it in my shop, _

_Just the thought of it is enough to make you sick…_ " She sighed, running a hand through her hair, _"And I'm telling you, them pussycats is quick._

_No denyin' sir, times is hard._

_Even harder than the worst pies in Domino,_

_Only lard and nothing more._ "

Bakura winced a little, trying another bite. It was less horrid than the first, the ale seeming to numb the rest of his tongue and dampening the taste. It was still horrid.

"_Is that just revolting?_

_All greasy and gritty,_

_It looks like it's molting,_

_And tastes like--_

_Well, pity_

_A woman alone_

_With limited wind_

_And the worst pies in Domino!"_ She shook her head, watching his eyes and her dark green eyes locked on his. _"Ah, sir, times is hard…"_

Bakura still must have looked sick, because the redhead pushed a hand through her hair again and shook her head. "Trust me, dearie," She murmured in a rather motherly sounding voice, "It's going to take more than ale to wash that taste out. Come with me, I'll get to you a nice cup of sake."

Shrugging, he walked with her into the side-room. Flowers sat against the wall, bright and exotic as well as dull and ordinary. She held out a cup of sake to him, which he gratefully drank down.

"There's a good boy. Now sit down, warm your bones, you look chilled through." She murmured, sitting in an empty chair by the fire. He sat in the other, reluctantly. Watching her face as it seemed a little calmer now.

"Isn't that a room above the shop? Why don't you rent it out, if times are so hard?" He asked with a little bit of disdain in his voice. It seemed to be the logical answer. However, she blinked her green eyes, looking at him strangely.

"Up there? Oh, no one will go near there, they say it's haunted." She shrugged a little, brushing her hair from her face and she looked at him a little bit more intensely. She held his shocked gaze before looking back into the flames, "And whose to say they're wrong? You see, something happened up there a while ago, something not so nice." The glow of the flames seemed to make the red in her hair more obvious.

Bakura arched a brow, his soft sound of scorn prompting her to glare at him and start her tale.

"_There was a barber and his wife,_

_And he was beautiful…_

_A proper artist with a knife,_

_But they transported him for life,_

_And he was beautiful…_ " Sinking a little further into the chair, she seemed to curl up like a puppy, "Barker, his name was. Ryou Barker."

"Transported?" Bakura couldn't help the shiver than ran through him at the remembrance of those days, lost in the desert sands, "What was his crime?"

"Foolishness," There was a small edge in her voice as she looked back at him. She seemed to be remembering, her story painting the picture for him.

"_He had this wife, you see,_

_Pretty little thing,_

_Silly little nit, _

_Had a chance for the moon on a string._

_Poor thing,_

_Poor thing…_

_There was this king, you see,_

_Wanted her like mad,_

_Every day he'd send her a flower. _

_But, did she come down from her tower?_

_Sat up there and sobbed by the hour._

_Poor fool,_

_Poor thing,"_ She sighed, her voice holding sympathy as she looked back into the flames again, the firelight highlighting her face.

"_Ah, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing,"_ There was a grim side to her, her eyes seeming to turn gold against the firelight as he watched her. His fists clenched, nails digging into the palm of his hand.

"_That Joey, he calls on her all polite,_

_Poor thing, poor thing,_

_The pharaoh, he says, is all contrite,_

_He blames himself for her dreadful plight,_

_She must come straight to his house tonight,_

_Poor thing…poor thing."_ There was a long pause as she took a deep breath. As if this part of the story were the worst of it. Bakura had the feeling it was, as if the grief of his beloved was not bad enough.

"_Of course, when she goes there,_

_Poor thing, poor thing,_

_They're having this ball all in masks._

_There's no one she knows there,_

_Poor thing, poor thing,_

_She wanders tormented and drinks,_

_Poor thing._

_The Pharaoh's repented she thinks,_

_Poor thing,_

_Oh where is Atemu, she asks?_

_He was there all right,_

_Only not so contrite."_ Her own fists clenched, and he had the vaguest sensation of being watched by the plants in the room. But, he didn't think too much on it, his mind occupied. The bastard, standing for justice and goodness, had taken a woman against her will. Bakura's woman, no less.

"_She wasn't a match for such craft, you see,_

_And everyone thought it so droll,_

_They figured she had to be daft, you see,_

_And so they just stood there and laughed, you see,_

_Poor soul…_

_Poor thing…"_

"NOOOO!" He bolted up off of the sofa, his face pale and drawn before he looked into the flames, "…would no one have mercy on her?" He whispered, setting a hand on the mantle to keep himself standing. His eyes stung.

"So, it is you; Ryou Barker…" She whispered, standing as well and watching him with yellow-green eyes.

"Where is Kara," He turned to her, his eyes locked on hers, "Where is my wife?"

At this, the redhead turned away and wrapped her arms around her waist, "She poisoned herself. Arsenic, from the apothecary down the street. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me. And…he's got your daughter."

"He?" Bakura asked in a weak voice, "You mean…the Pharaoh?"

She nodded mutely, before looking back at him, "Adopted her like his own."

His knees nearly gave out at the news, the mantle now the only thing keeping him standing. "Fifteen years, living in a burning hell on a false charge…fifteen years, dreaming that I would come home to my wife and child…"

"I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker," The redhead seemed to get some life back into her, "But-"

"No. Not Barker," He interrupted as he glared at her fiercely, "That man is dead. It's Todd now. Bakura Todd. And he will have his revenge. But first," He pushed himself back into standing, "I will need my shop back."


	3. Chapter 3

She nodded, leading him outside into the foggy day before up the stairs into the room above the shop. The door creaked loudly and he paused a moment, inspecting the dusty and obviously ill-kept room. It held too many memories. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Nothing to be afraid of, love," She murmured, "Come in."

He could get a better look at her now. She was tall for a woman, built willowy with little to her. Pale skin seemed to pull over her bones, a tribute to the hard times. Her green eyes were a forest color, not the yellow he had thought them to be. Her blood red hair was pulled back out of her face in a bun at the nape of her neck, her dress torn and tattered. But, she didn't seem to be inspecting him as she wandered over to a loose floorboard and pried it up out of the floor with ease.

She handed him the velvet cloth, hiding a leather case. Inside…he blinked in surprise as the silver shined in the light.

"I don't believe it…" Bakura breathed, sliding one of the razors out of the case.

"When they came for the girl, I hid them. I thought you would be back." She smiled a little, looking at the handles, "They're pure silver, aren't they?"

"Silver…yes…" The cool metal against his hand seemed to bring back memories of the old days. Memories that had been lost for years. _"These are my friends,_

_See how they glisten…_

_See this one shine,_

_How he smiles in the light,_

_My friend,_

_My faithful friend._

_Speak to me friend…"_ He opened the razor, seeing the blade seeming to glow in the light, _"Whisper,_

_I'll listen. _

_I know,_

_I know,_

_You've been locked_

_Out of sight_

_All these years,_

_Like me, my friend._

_Well, I've come home,_

_To find you waiting._

_Home,_

_And we're together,_

_And we'll do wonders,_

_Won't we?"_

The redhead stepped up beside him, seeming to watch the blade as well with equal interest.

"_You there,_

_My friend…"_ He continued, not seeming to notice her.

"_I'm your friend too, _

_Mr. Todd,"_

"_Come, let me hold you,"_

"_If you only knew,_

_Mr. Todd,"_

"_Now, with a sigh,_

_You're warm in my hand…"_

"_Ooh,_

_Mr. Todd,_

_You're warm in my hand…"_

"_My friend,_

_My clever friend,"_

"_You've come home,_

_Always had a fondness,_

_For you, I did…"_

He folded the razors, lovingly sliding them back into the case. Watching them still shining in the light from the window_, "Rest now, my friends._

_Soon I'll unfold you._

_Soon you'll know splendors…"_

"_Never you fear,_

_Mr. Todd,_

_You can stay here,_

_Mr. Todd…_

_Splendors you never have seen…"_

"…_you never have seen all your days will be yours…"_

"…_all your days,_

_My lucky friends… _

_Till now your shine_

_Was merely silver."_

"_I'm your friend,_

_And you're mine,_

_Don't they shine beautiful?_

_Silver's good enough for me…"_

"_Friends,_

_You shall drip rubies…"_

"…_Mr. T…"_

"_You'll soon drip_

_Precious…_

_Rubies."_ Looking over at the redhead from the corner of his eye, he ordered, "Leave me now."

A tad disgruntled, she gathered her skirts and swished out. He stood, holding one of the razors to the light of the window, a large, almost demonic grin on his face.

"At last…my arm is complete again!"

Marik looked over his map for what appeared the fifth time already, unfamiliar in the streets he had not set foot on in years. He sighed, sliding the map into his pocket and looked up at the large, foreboding building in front of him. It looked like the haunted mansions that he had been told about.

And there, as sad and lonely as any ghost, sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Smooth, slightly spiked pink hair hung down to her waist with part of it bound out of her face in a bun, seeming almost red against her pale skin. Violet eyes were locked on the obvious needlework in her hands, occasionally looking outside the window to the city below. Her eyes closed and a sigh escaped ruby red lips.

"_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, blackbird,_

_How is it you sing?_

_How can you jubilate,_

_Sitting in cages,_

_Never taking wing?_

_Outside the sky waits,_

_Beckoning, beckoning,_

_Just beyond the bars._

_How can you remain,_

_Staring at the rain,_

_Maddened by the stars?_

_How is it you sing_

_Anything?_

_How is it you sing?"_ She set a hand to the pane of the window, giving Marik half a smile as they shared a long look before she looked away. The next part seemed only for him as her eyes met his as well.

"_My cage has many rooms, _

_damask and dark_

_Nothing there ever sings,_

_Not even my lark._

_Larks never will,_

_you know,_

_when they're captive._

_Teach me to be more adaptive..._

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_nightingale, blackbird,_

_teach me how to sing._

_If I cannot fly,_

_let me sing..." _ She turned away from the window, as if suddenly startled by something before moving away from the window. A shriller voice cut through Marik's thoughts.

"Alms, alms, for a miserable woman on a miserable chilly morning..." Absently, Marik dropped a coin into her hand, never looking away from the window.

"Ma'am, could you tell me whose house this is?" He asked, slowly looking at him. She was a thin shred of a woman, stringy scarlet hair hanging around her face like pouring blood.

"That's the great Pharaoh Atemu's house, it is..." she murmured in a low tone.

"And the young woman who resides there?" He continued, looking down at her eyes. She made sure to keep her face tilted away from his.

"That's Takara, his beautiful ward. Keeps her snug, he does, all locked up. So, don't you go trespassing there, or it's a good whipping for you...or any other young man with mischief on his mind..." She turned, wandering off into the mist of the early morning.

Marik sighed, turning his eyes back to that window and sitting down on the bench outside. He saw a figure, thinking it Takara, he tried to calm her fears. Trying to make her believe he was a friend and not just a passer-by.

_"I feel you,_

_Takara,_

_I feel you._

_I was half-convinced I'd waken_

_Satisfied enough to dream you._

_Happily, I was mistaken, Takara!_

_I'll steal you, Takara..._

_I'll steal you."_

The figure moved away from the window. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at the map in his hands once again before starting to move in the vaguest direction. But, the front door swung open. Half-hoping it was Takara, he turned to look at her. But, instead, it was a slightly older man, dark pink hair streaked with golden blonde and spiked to an enormous height away from his face. He smiled at him, though something about the smile was the tiniest bit unnerving.

"Come in, young man, come in," He murmured, beckoning towards the door. Marik hesitated, before he turned and walked into the home. It was a grand invention, though the older man led him slightly swiftly into the library. He was wary, though he tried to get some kind of glimpse of the young woman he had seen earlier. There was no sign of her.

"You said you were looking for the main park?" The man asked, looking at him. Another man, this one much taller with dark blonde hair, seemed to slip in silently from the shadows.

Uneasy, Marik nodded. "Yes, sir." He murmured, as his host handed him a small snifter of brandy, "It's large on the map, but somehow, I keep getting lost."

"Sit down, please," Marik obeyed, though it was obvious he was still slightly tense as he took a small sip of brandy.

"It is embarrassing, a sailor losing his bearings, but everything is just unfamiliar here." He tried to give a small smile, the older man arching a brow at him.

"A sailor, eh?" He asked, questioningly.

"Yes, sir. The 'Osiris,' from Cairo."

"A sailor must know the ways of the world…" His host stood, looking over a few of the books in front of him, "He must be _practiced_ in the ways of the world. Would you say you are practiced, boy?" He asked, his voice having a less kind tone now. Marik's muscles tensed, his grip clenching a little around the snifter in his hand.

"Sir?" He asked, trying to keep calm. After all, the blonde behind him could probably snap him in two.

"Oh, yes," The older man murmured absently, "Such practices…the courtesans of Europe…the concubines of Siam…the catamites of Greece…the harlots of India…I have them all here…drawings of them." He turned, looking at Marik with cool eyes, "All the vile things that you could do with your whores." Taking a volume from the shelf, he smiled, sitting on the edge of his chair, "Would you like to see?"

"I think there's been some mistake," Marik stood, setting the snifter down on the table. The blonde stepped up behind him, daring him to move. However, Marik's violet eyes rested on the deep indigo ones of his host. The same ones that seemed to become angry as he spoke.

"Oh, I think not," The man clenched a fist, "You gandered at my ward, Takara. You gandered at her. Yes, sir, you _gandered_ ."

Marik heard the cracking of knuckles behind him, almost readying himself to run. "I meant no harm-" He started.

"Your meaning is immaterial. Mark me, boy, if I ever see your face on this street again, you will rue the day that you were born," His hand clenched in Marik's shirt, drawing the boy closer, "My Takara is _not to be gandered at_ !"

The next thing he knew, the larger blonde had pulled him out and tossed him out the back door into a back-alley.

"The main park is that way," He pointed, "right, left, and then straight, understand? Over there."

Marik turned, before the boy's fist met the back of his head with lethal force. The smaller blonde crumpled to the ground, before his attacker set his foot on his chest.

"You heard the Pharaoh, kid." He leaned on his knee, poking Marik's now pounding head hard, "Next time, it'll be your brains on the pavement." With a merry sort of whistle, he stood back on the ground walking inside.

Marik winced a little, wiping blood from his split lip before picking up his bag and starting to walk down the alley. His eyes rested on the window. He could see a set of violet eyes watching him fearfully. He smiled a little, despite his pain.

"_I'll steal you,_

_Takara,_

_I'll steal you!_

_Do they think that walls can hide you?_

_Even now, I'm at your window._

_I am in the dark beside you,_

_Buried sweetly in your blushing hair…"_

He leaned on the wall for support, tearing his eyes from the window.

"_I feel you,_

_Takara,_

_And one day,_

_I'll steal you._

'_till then, I'm with you there._

_Sweetly buried in your blushing hair…"_ His eyes closed a moment, before he moved down into the park.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's here every Thursday?" Bakura asked, looking over his shoulder at the redhead, whom he came to find out was named Mrs. Kira Sohma. She nodded.

"Like clockwork. He's Italian, all the rage."

"Not for long." He smirked, stretching his fingers.

"Mr. T, you really think you can do it?" she asked, tilting her head to one side curiously.

"This time tomorrow, they'll be lining up like sheep to be shorn." He stopped in his tracks, seeing the tall Joey walking through the market. Bakura's hand flew to his razors, but Mrs. Sohma's hand on his stopped him.

"Not yet," she whispered, "Not here, not in public."

Bakura glared at her, pulling her hand off his and letting his fall to his side before he looked towards what appeared to be an elaborate stage. A small boy came out, small for his age, obviously not well cared for.

"_Ladies and gentlemen,_

_May I have your attention please?_

_Do you wake every morning_

_In shame and despair_

_To discover your pillow is covered in hair?_

_What ought not to be there?_

_Well, ladies and gentleman,_

_From now on, you can waken with ease!_

_You need never again have a worry or care,_

_I will show you a miracle,_

_Marvelous, rare."_ His gray eyes seemed alight with excitement as he played to the curious crowd.

"_Gentlemen, I will show you what rose from the dead," _ One of the young ladies gasped, the boy smiling and shaking his head, _"On top of my head!"_ Whipping off his hat, long waves of black hair hung to the small of his back. He smiled innocently, stepping forward with a few bottles in his hands.

"'_twas Pegasus' Miracle Elixir,_

_that's what did the trick, sir._

_True, sir, true._

_Was it quick, sir?_

_Did it in a tick, sir,_

_Like an elixir ought to do."_ The boy turned, looking at a bald man and Bakura had to salute the boy's persuasion skill as he dripped a few drops onto his head.

"_How about a bottle, mister?_

_Only costs a penny, guaranteed._

_Does Pegasus' stimulate the growth, sir?_

_You can have my oath, sir,_

'_Tis unique._

_Rub a minute,_

_Stimulatin' isn't it?_

_Soon you'll have to thin it_

_Once a week."_

He was handing out bottles, the crowd passing it to those in the back. Mrs. Sohma took a bottle, uncorking it before handing it over to Bakura. He took a tentative sniff, before making a face. Well, his plan should go off without a hitch now.

"_Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful stench?"_ He asked her loudly. She seemed to realize her place in this. He was glad she was quick on the uptake.

"_Are we standing in an open trench?"_ She shook her head.

"_Must be standing near an open trench…"_ Bakura murmured to a woman in the crowd.

Others began smelling their bottles, making various expressions of disgust. The boy seemed to get desperate as he started to try selling again.

"_Buy Pegasus' Miracle Elixir,_

_anything what's slick_

_soon sprouts curls._

_Try Pegasus'_

_When they see how thick, sir,_

_You can have your pick, sir, _

_Of the girls."_ He leaned down, holding out a bottle, _"Would you like a bottle, missus?"_

Bakura sniffed the bottle again, regretting it. However, he looked at another woman in the crowd. _"What is this?"_

"_What is this?"_ Mrs. Sohma echoed to a gentleman beside her.

"_Smells like piss."_ He held the bottle out for her to sniff.

"_Smells like- phew!"_ She waved her hand in front of her nose at the strength of the stench. Obviously, someone had been eating their asparagus.

"_This is piss," _ Bakura shook his head, _"Piss and ink."_

Now, the boy truly was desperate. The white-haired man watched him squirm in interest. Trying to see if he would bounce back against them.

"_Try Pegasus', _

_stimulates the roots sir-"_

"_Keep it off your boots, sir,_

_it'll eat right through."_ Bakura advised the man on Mrs. Sohma's other side.

"_Yes,_

_get Pegasus',_

_ladies really love it!"_

"_Flies do, too."_ Mrs. Sohma rolled her green eyes absently, before the curtain flew open.

A tall, slender man stepped out from behind it, flirting long and luxurious silvery hair as his brown eyes scanned the crowd. Bakura had found his opponent. This was the barber that had supposedly stolen his title at the top. That meant little, but he needed to get noticed. Beating this idiot should do it.

"_I am Maxamillian Pegasus,_

_the king of the barber, the barber of kings,_

_E buon giorno, good day,_

_I blow you a kiss…"_ He did so, though made a point to aim it to Mrs. Sohma. She rolled her eyes, turning and rejecting him. He simply shrugged, going back to his introduction of himself.

"_And I, the so-famous Pegasus, _

_I wish-a to know-a_

_Who-a has the nerve-a to say_

_That my Elixir is piss!"_

"I do." Bakura stepped forward, cocking his head slightly to the side and looking the man in the eye. "I am Mr. Bakura Todd of Fleet Street. I have opened a bottle of Pegasus' Elixir and I say to you that it is an arrant fraud, concocted of piss and ink."

The man went to respond, but Bakura took pleasure in cutting him off to issue his challenge.

"Furthermore, 'signor', though I have serviced no kings, I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times the dexterity than any street mountebank." The entire crowd gasped at the same time as the two silvery-haired men watched each other. Bakura pulled out the case of his razors, before pulling them out.

"You see these razors? I wager them against two thousand one hundred and fourty-one yen. Either accept or reveal yourself a sham." He watched the man, who finally nodded and pulled off his long cape.

A set of wooden chairs were brought up as Bakura turned towards the crowd. The tall Joey was easy enough to find amongst the others. "Would Joey Wheeler be the judge?"

Mrs. Sohma stared at him, her eyes widening before the blonde shrugged and stepped forward. He didn't seem to recognize the more humble of the two. "Sure, gotta do something for the community." He looked over at Pegasus as two men stepped forward. The boy prepared the Italian's elaborate supplies and it seemed that the elder man had the challenge won already.

"Ready?" Joey asked.

"Ready." Bakura nodded.

"Ready," Pegasus watched the blonde at the edge of his stage.

Joey blew a shrill whistle before the competition began. Pegasus stropped his razor quickly, looking at Bakura who did the same in a much slower manner.

"_Now, signorini, signori,_

_We mix-a the lather_

_But first-a you gather_

_Around, signorini, signori,_

_You looking a man,_

_Who have had-a the glory_

_To shave the Pope._

_Mr. Bakura-so-smart…"_ He splashed some of the shaving cream onto his customer, looking briefly at Bakura who continued his slow pace. Rolling his brown eyes, Pegasus continued.

"_Oh, I beg-a you pardon -- 'll_

_Call me a lie, was-a only a cardinal--_

_Nope!_

_It was-a da Pope!_

_To shave-a the face,_

_To cut-a the hair,_

_Require the grace_

_Require the flair,_

_For if-a you slip,_

_You nick the skin,_

_You clip-a the chin,_

_You rip-a the lip a bit_

_Beyond-a repair!"_ He continued, rhythmically shaving his customer, while Bakura still continued. Mrs. Sohma watched him, a calm, cool look in her eyes, while other supporters would have been anxious and nervous.

"_To shave-a the face_

_Or even a part_

_Without it-a smart_

_Require the heart._

_Not just-a the flash,_

_It take-a panache,_

_It take-a the passion_

_For the art." _ He began to get more and more frustrated, as Bakura did not seem to be shaken. _"To shave-a the face,_

_To trim-a the beard,_

_To make-a the bristle_

_Clean like a whistle,_

_This is from early infancy_

_The talent give to me_

_By God_ !" He theatrically stopped a moment, crossing himself with his razor. At this, Bakura rolled his eyes. At this point, it was just getting idiotic.

"_It take-a the skill,_

_It take-a the brains,_

_It take-a the will_

_To take-a the pains,_

_It take-a the pace,_

_It take-a the graaaaaace..."_ Now, Bakura lathered his customer and shaved in three clean strokes. Motioning to Joey, the blonde stared a moment.

"Mr. Todd wins." He said, staring at the man's cheek. After all, he had not seen such a skill before in a while. Pegasus seemed to deflate as Mrs. Sohma walked over to Bakura and slipped her arm through his.

"Profound work, dear." She smiled a little bit at him. He shrugged.

Pegasus bowed, flaunting his long hair. "I bow to a skill far greater than my own," He murmured in a cool voice. Bakura held out his hand.

"The two thousand one hundred and fourty-one yen," He ordered.

The Italian nodded, drawing out a red velvet purse before handing over the note to him, "And may the good Lord smile on you until we meet again." His smile was cold as ice, before he turned to his assistant. "Come, boy."

"Are we pulling out, sir?" The boy stared up at him with wide gray eyes. Pegasus growled and viciously slapped him across the face and the boy nearly fell.

"Yes, we're pulling out. Quickly, now."

Mrs. Sohma seemed to watch with a sympathetic look on her face. But, she merely sighed and moved over to Bakura. The silvery-haired man had made his way over to Joey. However, a young man stepped into his way.

"Mr. Todd, do you have an establishment of your own?" He asked. Of course, Bakura didn't answer, letting Mrs. Sohma do the talking.

"He certainly does. Bakura Todd's Tonsorial Parlor, above my meat pie emporium in Fleet Street." She looked over her shoulder at Bakura, who had moved all the way away from her, standing in front of Joey.

"I thank you for agreeing to judge us," He smiled a little, though it was forced all for the sake of the act. "You are a paragon of integrity."

"Thanks, always try to do the best I can for those less fortunate. They said your place was in Fleet Street?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, Mr. Todd, you'll probably see me there, before the week is out."

"You will be welcome, Joey Wheeler," The smile widened, this time in earnest, "and I shall guarantee you for without a penny's charge the closest shave you will ever know."

As Mrs. Sohma slipped her arm through his again, the two of them started to walk out of the marketplace. She sighed in relief, looking back at him.

"You almost gave me a heart attack." She said quietly.

"You have to have a heart before you can have an attack." Bakura pointed out absently.

"Well, I do have a heart…" She looked back over her shoulder at where the boy had been working, "…and I suppose it _is_ just my gentle heart that I hate to see a boy treated like that."

Bakura rolled his eyes. After all, it wasn't as if it were his issue.

Humming, Takara sat on the edge of her seat with her table beside the window. Her wrist moved fluidly, her brush tracing small characters, calligraphy soon covering the page in front of her. However, there were tears in her violet eyes.

From the other side of the room, it was obvious that there was a tiny hole in the wallpaper, her guardian's eyes watching her as he always did. She sighed, sitting away from the paper and setting her brush carefully to the side. Looking out the window, she saw the blonde boy from the day before looking up at her window.

She smiled at him, an innocent smile that barely bared her tiny fangs. Looking at the pinhole, she saw that her guardian had left for now. With a wider smile, she reached into the desk before opening the window halfway. She flung down the key, watching it land on the street in front of his feet. Quickly, she closed the windows, watching him through it.

He picked up the key, his eyes watching hers before he smiled and inclined his head. A sign that she would be alright, that he was going to take her away from here. But, he couldn't just yet. He turned, disappearing before her guardian had a chance to act on his threat.

She watched him go, her heart sinking. But, she knew he would be here for her when the time was right.

"Where is he?" Bakura asked, sitting in the chair Mrs. Sohma had presented him with. She didn't seem to mind his question.

"I know, it's not much a chair," she murmured, "but, it'll serve your purpose. It was my dear Kyo's chair. He sat in it all day long, just watching the sky. Sunning himself."

"He said he'd be here before the week was out." Bakura snarled, glaring over at the window, "So where is he?!"

"Who says the week is out?" Mrs. Sohma looked at him, shaking her head, "It's only Tuesday."

He growled, turning and starting to pace. Mrs. Sohma blinked, sitting in the large window before looking at him.

"_Easy now,_

_Hush, love, hush,_

_Don't distress yourself,_

_What's your rush?_

_Keep your thoughts_

_Nice and lush,_

_Wait…"_

He didn't respond even as she stood on her feet again, looking around before spinning in a circle.

"_I've been thinking flowers –_

_Maybe daisies – _

_To brighten up the room._

_Don't you think some flowers,_

_Pretty daisies,_

_Might relieve the gloom?_

_Ah, love, wait."_

Bakura snatched up his razor, flipping it open before looking at it and his eyes reflected in it. He spoke to it, as if it were just a normal person, "And the Pharaoh? When do we get to him?"

"Can you think of nothing else?" Mrs. Sohma asked, tilting her head to one side, "you're always brooding on what happened so many years ago.

_Don't you know,_

_Silly man,_

_Half the fun is to _

_plan the plan?_

_All good things come to those who can_

_Wait._ "

He looked calmer now and she moved over to him, touching his hand for a brief moment before looking around the room again. Beginning her mindless chatter.

"_Gillyflowers, maybe,_

_Instead of daisies,_

_I don't know, though, _

_What do you think?"_ He had fallen into a brooding silence, not answering her.

The door burst open, sending Bakura rocketing out of the chair, the razor snapping shut as Mrs. Sohma turned towards the door. Marik stood, breathless, in the doorway.

"Mr. Todd! Thank god I've found you…" Seeing the red-haired girl, he blinked a moment, "…Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me."

"Mrs. Sohma, sir." She gave him a tiny curtsy.

"A pleasure, ma'am," Marik turned his amethyst eyes to Bakura again, "You see, there's a girl who needs my help – " He seemed lost in his own thoughts, suddenly, "- such a sad girl, a lonely girl…and beautiful, too."

"Slow down, Marik," Bakura held up a hand. The blonde nodded.

"Yes, sorry. This girl has a guardian so…tyrannical that he keeps her locked away. But, this morning, she dropped this," He held out an iron key, "it must be a sign that Takara _wants_ me to help her! Th-that's her name, Takara." He stopped a moment, taking another breath, "And her guardian, Atemu…he's the Pharaoh, but he's just unnatural. So, when he goes into court today, I'm going to sneak into the house and release her and try to convince her to come away with me."

"Oh, this is all terribly romantic." Mrs. Sohma whispered in a low voice.

"…thank you, ma'am," Marik blushed, "But, you see, I don't know anyone in Domino and I need somewhere safe for her to stay until I can get us a carriage to Tokyo. If I could keep her here, just for an hour or two, I would be forever in your debt."

A long silence passed between the three of them, the stunned Bakura having turned as pale as his hair. Mrs. Sohma watched him before looking back at Marik.

"Bring her here, dear." She cooed in a motherly tone.

"Thank you, ma'am," Marik looked back at Bakura, "…Mr. Todd?"

"The girl may come." He finally replied mechanically.

"Thank you, my friend." Marik grinned widely, before turning and running out. Bakura sank back into the chair, glaring at the far wall. Mrs. Sohma smiled, walking over and setting a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, it looks like the fates are being kind to you, Mr. T." She smiled down at him, before he grunted. He was obviously annoyed with the arrangement. Still, she knelt down beside him, looking into his eyes. "What's wrong, love?" She asked quietly, turning his face from the wall to hers, "You'll have your little girl back before the day is out."

"For a few hours," He muttered, "Before he carries her off to the other side of Japan."

"Oh, him?" The redhead smiled a little at him and shrugged, "Well, let him bring her here and then, since you've been anxious for a little," she made a vague throat-cutting gesture, "then his is the throat to slit."

He stood, moving over to the window again and crossing his arms over his chest. She sat down in his spot, folding her arms and watching him still. It was an unnerving habit she had, watching him in silence. Finally, she gave a little sigh.

"Poor Takara, all those years without a scrap of motherly affection…well, we'll soon see to that." She looked up at the ceiling, leaning back a little against the chair. Bakura stiffened, looking down at the street.

"What the hell?" He asked quietly, and Mrs. Sohma blinked a moment before standing and walking over to his side. Pegasus was walking towards them, his little assistant in tow.

"Look at that face," She whispered, "He's up to mischief."

"Keep the boy downstairs with you." He ordered. She nodded in silence, turning and walking downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

She stopped right as they made it to the bottom. Pegasus smiled charmingly at her and she forced her own smile. "Signora, is Mr. Todd at home?"

"Indeed he is," Mrs. Sohma's eyes shifted from Pegasus to the boy beside him, "Would you look at that?" She murmured, "You don't look like you've ever had a kind word in half-past never."

"Ma'am," He looked up at her, gray eyes confused and a little untrusting. She gave him the tiniest wink, before looking back at Pegasus.

"Do you mind if I take him in for a nice, juicy meat pie?" She asked, innocently twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

"Whatever you like," Despite his attempt at being charming, it was obvious the silver-haired man was impatient. Calmly, she stepped to the side, allowing him to go upstairs. Resting her hand on the boy's shoulder, she smiled a little at him.

"I hope your teeth are strong."

As he sat down, she set a pie in front of him. He devoured it almost in one breath. She smiled, sitting across from him with six or seven others at the ready.

"That's my boy," She murmured, "tuck in. Reminds me of my dear Kyo, though he was a lot pickier than you."

"Mr. Todd," Pegasus sat calmly on the large trunk, looking at the other man with a small smile on his face.

"Signor Pegasus," Bakura murmured, watching his unwelcome guest coolly.

"I'd like my yen back, if you don't mind."

"Why?"

"Because you entered our little wager under false pretenses and in order for you to be more honest in your business, I'll be sharing half your earnings." Pegasus seemed vaguely amused as Bakura turned away, "Mr. Ryou Barker."

Bakura froze where he stood. Pegasus seemed to pace the room, inspecting everything.

"Yes, this will do nicely," He murmured to himself, before looking back at the other barber, "You don't remember me, do you? Well, why should you? I was just a little upstart you hired to take care of the shop all those years ago, there's no reason for you to remember," He picked up one of the razors, flicking it open, "But I do remember these…and how could I forget you?" He set down the razor as Bakura turned on him, glaring violently at him, "So, do we have a deal, or shall I run down to my dear friend Joey-boy? What do you say to that, Mr. Bakura To-" He was cut off as Bakura swiped up his razor, slicing the man's throat open.

Pegasus fell to the floor, just as Bakura heard the sound of feet running up the stairs. The boy burst in the door.

"Signor, you have an appointment!" He called, though he saw no one but Mr. Todd standing there. The white-haired barber turned, watching his eyes.

"Signor Pegasus was called away; you had best run after him."

"Oh, no sir….I'd better wait for him here, or else it'll be a lashing. He's a great one for the lashings." The boy moved over, sitting on the large trunk in the corner, not seeming to notice the hand hanging out of the top. Bakura silently thanked the stars for his good fortune, but he knew it wouldn't last. He would have to get the boy out.

Leaning against the wall, he forced a slightly nervous smile at the young man. "So, Mrs. Sohma gave you a pie, did she?"

"She's a real lady," The dark-haired boy smiled a little bit, "A perfect model of Christian virtue."

While Bakura highly doubted that, he didn't exactly want to say it out loud. "That she is, that she is. But, if I know a growing boy, there's still room for more pie, eh?"

"I'd say, sir," The boy touched his stomach as it growled loudly, "an aching void."

"Then, why don't you run down and wait for your master there. I'm sure that there will be more pie in it for you." The white-haired barber smiled persuasively. But, the boy just wouldn't budge.

"No, I should stay here."

The damn kid just couldn't take a hint. But, suddenly, the elder male got an idea. With another small smile, he ran a hand through his hair boredly, "I know, why don't you run downstairs and tell Mrs. Sohma that I said to get you a nice big tot of _gin_ ?"

Now, the boy rocketed off the top of the trunk and away from the hand hanging out of the top and ran towards the door. "Thank you kindly, sir! You're a Christian indeed."

Not quite, but what the little one didn't know wouldn't hurt him…

"Come, walk with me…" Atemu calmly slipped his hands behind his head, Joey walking beside him, "I have news, my friend. In order to shield her from the perils and evils of this world, I have decided to marry my dear Takara."

"Congrats," The other blonde smiled widely, as he was wont to do. He was an idiot, but he was a loyal one and had it not been for him, there would have been many a man who would have taken Takara from her guardian much earlier.

"It's strange, though. When I offered myself to her, she showed a certain…reluctance."

"_Excuse me, my lord,_

_May I request, my lord,_

_Permission, my lord, to speak?_

_Forgive me, if I suggest, my lord,_

_You're looking less than your best, my lord,_

_With stubble on your cheek._

_And girls, as you know my lord_

_Are weak."_

Atemu blinked a moment, touching his cheek as they rounded the corner.

"_Fret not though, my lord, _

_I know a place, my lord, _

_A barber, my lord, of skill. _

_Thus armed with a shaven face, my lord, _

_Some eau de cologne to brace my lord _

_And musk to enhance the chase, my lord, _

_You'll dazzle the girl until _

_She bows to your every will."_

"A barber? Take me to him."

"Sure. His name is Todd, Bakura Todd, and he's the very best at what he does."

Mrs. Sohma poured out a glass of gin, setting it in front of the boy – whom had told her that his name was Mokuba – and he gulped it down between inhaling meat pies. She looked at the ceiling nervously, then at the boy.

"You should slow down a little; it'll go straight to your head."

Mokuba shook his head, "I was weaned on the stuff. They used to give it to us in the orphanage so we could sleep…no one wanted to sleep in a place like that anyway."

"That's nice, dear," She murmured absently, "I'll just head up and check on Mr. Todd. You'll be alright alone, right?"

"Leave the bottle." He murmured, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

"Right…" She set it beside him, lifting her skirts delicately as she walked up the stairs and into the shop. Seeing Bakura staring out the window, she brushed a lock of her hair out of her face with a small sigh, "The child's drinking me out of house and home. How long until Pegasus gets back?"

"He's not coming back," Bakura smirked a little, his tone contented and smug, like the cat that had eaten the canary. Mrs. Sohma's eyes narrowed a little,

"Mr. Todd, you didn't!" She murmured in a low voice. He merely pointed towards the chest at the far side of the room. Of course, she wandered over and opened the top. The scrunched body of the other barber was in the bottom. She spun around on Bakura, her eyes wide. "You've completely snapped, killing a man who hadn't done you any harm!"

"He recognized me from the old days," Bakura turned back to face her, "He was trying to blackmail me. Half of my earnings."

"Oh, well, that's a different matter entirely," She pushed some of her hair out of her face, looking down at the corpse before picking up the purse and sliding it down the front of her dress, "For a moment, I had thought you had lost your mind. Now," She looked over at Bakura, "What're we going to do about the little one?"

"Send him up."

She paused, considering the gravity of the situation, before shaking her head. "He's just a simple thing; I'll just tell him some story."

"Send. Him. Up." Bakura growled, his teeth clenched.

"No," She stated stubbornly, "I was going to hire one of my sons to help around the house, but since Mokuba's here, I won't have to call either of them home."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," He muttered in a low voice, "…should've known you'd name the stray and then you'd have to keep it."

"I'll just have to stock up on the gin," She continued, ignoring his harsh words and also trying to calm him down, "Poor baby drinks like a fish."

The white-haired barber sucked in a breath, looking out the window. Mrs. Sohma moved over to him. At the foot of the stairs stood the Pharaoh. Bakura motioned for her to leave. Gently, she kissed his cheek, calmly walking out the door and down the stairs towards her own shop.

Bakura looked up to the door as Atemu entered, once again forcing that familiar smile.

"Mr. Todd, I presume?"

"At your service, your Majesty,"

"You know me?"

"Who here does not know the honorable Pharaoh Atemu," Now he was stretching it a bit, just wanting him to sit in the chair so that he could finally have revenge. It took a moment, and a soft nudge of, "sit, if you please, sit."

He finally did, to Bakura's surprise. He thought he had been a little too eager, but apparently he had convinced the blonde that he was just eager to help.

"So, what may I do for you today, sir? A stylist trimming of the hair, perhaps a soothing skin massage?"

The Pharaoh sighed, as if daydreaming, before looking to the barber. _"You see sir,_

_A man infatuate with love,_

_Her ardent and eager slave. _

_So, fetch the pomade and pumice stone_

_And lend me a more seductive tone,_

_A sprinkling, perhaps of French cologne,_

_But first, a shave…"_

"_The closest I ever gave…"_ He whipped a sheet over the man, whistling as he tucked it in and began to mix the lather.

"You're in a merry mood, Mr. Todd." Atemu pointed out.

"_It's your delight, sir, catching fire,_

_From one man to the next."_ He lied easily. He had been doing it for years.

"_It's true, sir, that love can still inspire,_

_The blood to pound, the heart to leap higher…"_

"_What more can man require?" _ Both seemed to ask, Bakura looking away a moment before starting to lather the pharaoh's face.

"_Than love, sir?"_

"_More than love, sir,"_ Bakura easily pushed his hair from his face, looking out the moment again before looking back at the Pharaoh, who arched a questioning brow.

"_What, sir?"_ Atemu asked, tilting his head to one side.

"_Women…_ " He murmured with a small smile.

"_Ah, yes, women."_

"_Pretty women," _ The pharaoh started to hum, Bakura whistling along as well. As the man sat there, Bakura unfolded his razor.

"_Now then, my friend,_

_Now to your purpose,_

_Patience, enjoy it,_

_Revenge cannot be taken in haste…"_

"_Make haste, and if we wed,_

_You will be commended, sir!" _ Atemu opened his eyes, Bakura frowning.

"_My lord…"_ He looked down at the man, _"And who may it be said,_

_is your intended, sir?"_

"_My ward," _ The words sent a shock wave of rage and disgust through the barber, though he didn't allow it to show as Atemu continued with a small sigh, "…she's as pretty as a rosebud."

"As pretty as her mother?" Bakura asked, his poisonous thoughts coming out into the open.

"What?"

"Nothing, sir, it was nothing…" Leaning in, he began to shave the blonde, as if that were his only plan. _"Pretty women,_

_Fascinating,_

_Sipping coffee, dancing…_

_Pretty women_

_Are a wonder._

_Pretty women,_

_Sitting in the window or_

_Standing on the stair,_

_Something in them_

_Cheers the air._

_Pretty women…"_

"_Silhouetted,"_

"_Stay within you…"_

"_Glancing…"_

"_Stay forever…"_

"_Breathing lightly…"_

"_Pretty women…"_

"_Pretty women, blowing out their candles or_

_combing out their hair…"_ They murmured at the same time, strangely.

"_Then, they leave," _ Atemu's voice was quiet, as if reminiscing. _"Even when they leave you_

_and vanish, they somehow_

_can still remain there with you,_

_there with you…"_

"_Ah, pretty women," _ They were together again, before Bakura broke off.

"_At their mirrors…"_

"_In their gardens…"_

"_Letter-writing…"_

"_Flower-picking…"_

"_Weather-watching…"_

"_How they make a man sing. _

_Proof of Heaven,_

_As you're living,_

_Pretty women, sir,"_

"_Pretty women, yes!"_

"_Pretty women here's to-"_

"_Pretty women, sir!"_

"_Pretty women, all the-"_

"_Pretty women!"_

"_Pretty women,"_

"_Pretty women, sir!"_

Bakura's arm came back, ready to come down at a savage arc, having waited long enough. Now, it was finally time to have his revenge. But then, the door burst open.

"Mr. Todd, I've seen Takara, she said she'll leave with me tonight…" Marik's eyes widened as he saw the man sitting in his friend's chair. Atemu stood, glaring his hate-filled glare over at the younger blonde.

"You," He snarled, "There is indeed a higher power to warn me thus in time," He ripped the sheet out of his collar, advancing on Marik, who stepped back against the wall, "Takara, elope with you? Deceiving slut, I'll have her locked away in some far corner of the world, where neither you, nor any other vile creature shall lay eyes on her again!" He spun, venom in every motion as he glared at Bakura, "As for you, barber, it's all too clear what kind of company you keep. Service them well and keep their custom, for you shall have none of mine!" He stalked out of the room, leaving Marik and Bakura in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr. Todd, you have to help me," Marik murmured, begging the frozen man to understand, "I've seen Takara, and-"

"OUT!" Bakura roared, turning on him, "OUT, I SAY!"

Marik took a step back, before turning running down the stairs. Bakura nearly fell into his chair, but managed to keep himself standing, his smoldering rage the only thing keeping him up. Mrs. Sohma stepped through the door in surprise.

"What happened?" She asked, "I heard all manner of screaming and running about-"

"I had him!" Bakura snarled, "And then…"

"The sailor boy busted in, I see. The both of them were running down the street."

"_I had him!"_ He slammed his fist into the wall, _"His throat was bare beneath my hand…"_

"There, there, love…" She set a hand on his, "Don't fret."

"_NO!" _ He spun around to face her; all his rage directed at her, _"I had him!_

_His throat was there, _

_And now he'll never come again!"_

"_Easy now,_

_Hush, love, hush,"_ Fear shone in her eyes, familiar eyes that did nothing to calm him, _"I keep telling you-"_

"_WHEN?"_ He snapped at her, but she stalwartly continued, as if she wasn't afraid,

"_-What's your rush?"_

"_Why did I wait?_

_You told me to wait,_

_Now he'll never come again!" _ His fists clenched as he glared out the window and jerked free of her grasp. He glared out over the city; _"_ _There's a hole in the world,_

_Like a great black pit,_

_And it's filled with people_

_Who are filled with shit,_

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it…_

_But not for long."_ An insane grin covered his face as he turned back to her, and this time she backed up. _"They all deserve to die. _

_Tell you why, Mrs. Sohma, tell you why._

_Because in all of the whole human race, Mrs. Sohma_

_There are two kinds of men and only two._

_There's the one staying put in his proper place_

_And the one with his foot in the other one's face._

_Look at me, Mrs. Sohma, look at you._

_No, we all deserve to die."_ He grabbed her, yanking her close to him, _"Even you, Mrs. Sohma, even I._

_Because the lives of the wicked should be,"_ He made a slashing movement with his razor, _"made brief, _

_For the rest of us, _

_Death will be a relief._

_We all deserve to die…"_ His eyes became tormented, his voice a low wail, _"And I'll never _

_See Takara,_

_No I'll never_

_Hold my girl to me..."_ He pushed Mrs. Sohma away, _"FINISHED!"_

His mind seemed to shift, he was on the streets with the others of the city, Walking through them unnoticed. _"Alright,_

_You, sir,_

_How about a shave?_

_Come and_

_Visit_

_Your good friend Bakura!_

_You sir, _

_Too, sir,_

_Welcome to the grave!"_ He weaved through the crowd, no one taking notice of him.

"_I will have vengeance, _

_I will have salvation!_

_Who sir,_

_You, sir?_

_No one's in the chair,_

_Come on, come on!_

_Bakura's_

_Waiting,_

_I want you bleeders!_

_You sir, _

_Anybody!_

_Gentlemen, _

_Now don't be shy!" _ He stopped, looking up at he sky as if making a declaration directly to the gods that had wronged him and his family, _"Not one man, _

_No, nor ten men_

_Nor a hundred_

_Can assuage me,_

_I will have you!"_ He wandered through his imaginary back alley, his razor open and ready.

"_And I will get him back,_

_Even as he gloats,_

_In the meantime, I'll practice_

_On less honorable throats," _ It began to rain, like tears to remind him of his own pain.

"_And my Kara_

_Lies in ashes,_

_And I'll never_

_Hold my girl to me._

_But the work waits! I'm alive at last_

_And I'm full of JOY!"_

He was back in his shop, on his knees in front of the chair, his razor in his hand. Mrs. Sohma looked less than pleased, more disgusted than anything else.

"That's all very well," She muttered, "But, what're we going to do about him?"


	7. Chapter 7

She jerked her thumb to the chest where Pegasus' body still lay.

He stared at her cold green eyes, confusion and surprise riddling his face and he seemed frozen in that expression. She arched a brow at him, sighing and shaking her head before standing him up.

"Come on, you great useless hunk of idiotic flesh." She growled, grabbing his shoulders and marching him downstairs. "Sit," she ordered and he thumped down into the chair, staring into space still. This time, he glared at her darkly.

Moving into her parlor, she sighed. In front of the fire like a puppy, his thumb in his mouth and the gin bottle in his arms was Mokuba. Practically wrestling the bottle away from the sleeping boy, she poured a small tumbler with the last of the gin and set it in his hand.

"There we go, drink it down all the way." She murmured and Bakura obeyed. "Good, now, we have a body just decomposing upstairs. That's hardly good for business. What shall we do?"

"Later on, when it's dark, I'll take him out to some secret place and bury him." Bakura muttered.

"Oh, yes, I guess we could do that." Mrs. Sohma sat on the edge of her counter, "I don't suppose he has any relatives, or anyone who'd come poking around…" Her arms crossed over her chest. _"Seems a downright shame,"_

"Shame?" He asked, arching a brow at her.

"_Seems an awful waste._

_Such a nice plump frame_

_What's-his-name has…_

_Had?_

_Has…_

_And it can't be traced._

_Business needs a lift,_

_Debts to be erased."_ She swung her legs like a waiting schoolgirl, her hands resting at her sides again, _"Think of it as thrift,_

_As a gift,_

_If you get my drift."_

He stared at her blankly. She rolled her eyes with a sigh of exasperation.

"_Seems an awful waste…_

_I mean,_

_With the price of meat what it is,_

_When you get it,_

_If you get it…"_

"Ah," He smirked, understanding.

"_Good, you got it?_

_Take for instance Mrs. Gardner and her pie shop,"_ She smiled a little wider, _"business never better,_

_Using only pussycats and toast._

_Now, I'm sure a kitty's good for maybe six or seven at the most._

_And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste…"_

"_Mrs. Sohma,_

_what a charming notion!"_ He lifted her off the table, his hands at her waist. She smiled, flipping her hair.

"_Well it _ _**does** _ _ seem a waste!"_

"_Eminently practical,_

_And yet appropriate as always!_

_Mrs. Sohma, _

_How I've lived without you all these years,_

_I'll never _ _**know** _ _!"_

"_Think about it, _

_Other gentlemen will soon be coming for a shave!"_

"_How delectable!_

_Also undetectable!"_ He spun her around.

"_Won't they?"_

"_How choice!"_

"_Think of…"_

"_How rare!"_

"_All the pies!"_

The two of them went to the window, both of them looking like maniacal dolls.

"_Oh, what's the sound of the world out there?" _ Bakura asked, his arms still tight around her waist.

"_What, Mr. Todd,_

_What, Mr. Todd,_

_What is that sound?" _ She asked, looking up at him with eyes full of a childlike innocence.

"_Those crunching noises pervading the air?"_

"_Yes, Mr. Todd,_

_Yes, Mr. Todd,_

_Yes, all around."_

"_It's man devouring man,_

_My dear,"_

"_And who are we to deny it in here!"_

Bakura sighed, sitting down in his previously vacated chair with a small smile, "These are desperate times, Mrs. Sohma. Desperate measures are called for."

"Here we are," She murmured, picking up a pie from the counter and setting it in front of him with a wider smirk, "Hot, out of the oven."

"What is that?" He asked, almost theatrically.

"_It's priest," _ She purred, looking out the side window, where some people were headed into the church, _"Have a little priest."_

"_Is it really good?"_

"_Sir, it's too good, _

_At least._

_Then again, they don't come with sins of the flesh,_

_So it's pretty fresh."_

Bakura arched a brow, looking out the window with her. _"Awful lot of fat,"_

"_Only where it sat."_

"_Haven't you got poet, _

_or something like that?"_

"_No, you see the trouble with poet_

_is how do you know it's deceased?_

_Try the priest." _

The two of them shifted their eyes to a few of the other men outside, looking considering before Mrs. Sohma saw one on the far side of the group. "Lawyer's rather nice," She pointed out.

"_If it's for a price,"_ Bakura chuckled cynically.

"_Order somethin' else,_

_Though to follow_

_Since no one should swallow it twice."_

"_Anything that's lean?"_

She motioned vaguely to a man in uniform, _"Well, then, if you're Japanese and loyal_

_You might enjoy royal Marine,_

_Anyway, it's clean,_

_Though of course, it taste of_

_Wherever it's been!"_

"_Is that squire _

_on the fire?" _ Bakura asked, hopping up into the windowsill, tilting his head to one side.

"_Mercy,_

_No sir,_

_Look closer,_

_You'll notice it's grocer,"_

"_Looks thicker_

_More like vicar!"_

"_No, it has to be grocer,"_ She leaned in, sliding one arm around his waist before whispering into his ears, _"It's green."_

He laughed, hopping down and taking one of her hands, waltzing with her through the room. _"The history_

_Of the world,_

_My love."_

"_Save a lot of graves,_

_Do a lot of relatives favors,"_ Mrs. Sohma continued thoughtfully.

"_Is those below_

_Serving those up above." _ He kissed her cheek and she blushed, before shaking her head.

"_Everybody shaves_

_So there should be plenty of flavors."_

"_How gratifying_

_For once to know."_

"_That those above_

_Will serve those down below!"_ She spun out of his arms, picking up a third pie and holding it out to him. He arched a brow, a Cheshire cat smile on his face.

"What is that?" He asked purposefully, leaning over to her.

"_It's fop,_

_Finest in the shop._

_Or we have some shepherd's pie peppered_

_With actual shepherd on top._

_And I've just begun._

_Here's the politician so oily_

_It's served with a doily_

_Have one?"_

He picked up the pie, the filling running out the bottom. _"Put it on a bun,_

_You never know when it's going to run."_

"_Try the friar,_

_Fried, it's drier."_

"_No!_

_The clergy is really too coarse and too mealy."_

"_Then actor,_

_That's compactor."_

"_Ah,_

_But always arrives overdone," _ He leaned in, his expression dark and his face set in the dark mood, "I'll come again when you have Pharaoh on the menu."

"Well, dear, since we don't have Pharaoh yet…will you settle for the next best thing?" She asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"What would that be?" He asked, his voice a soft murmur as he leaned his forehead against hers. She picked up the butcher's cleaver at her elbow.

"How about…" She looked thoughtful, "…executioner?"

Bakura picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Deciding he liked it, he smirked a little wider and handed her a rolling pin with his free hand. She took it, setting her hand at his shoulder as he began to waltz with her across the room again.

"_Have charity to the world_

_My pet," _ He purred, leaning in and kissing her neck.

"_Yes,_

_Yes,_

_I know, my love,"_ Her eyes closed as she tilted her head back.

"_We'll take the customers_

_That we can get!"_

"_High-born and low,_

_My love."_

"_We'll not discriminate_

_Great from small._

_No, we'll serve anyone,"_

"_We serve anyone,"_

"_And to anyone at all!"_ Their voices blended together as they stopped, looking out the window at all the fresh meat walking past them.

Takara's hands shook a little as she took her clothes from their drawers, sliding them into her suitcase. Pulling off all her jewelry, her hand paused over a small rose-shaped pendant around her neck; one that her guardian had said belonged to her mother. With great reluctance, she jerked it off, pulling her hair out of her eyes.

"So, it's true," The voice made her jump, her dark violet eyes locked on those of the Pharaoh. He looked hurt, very angry. He looked very dangerous, but she forced herself to stand straight and look haughty.

"Sir," She murmured imperiously, though she heard her voice shaking, "a gentleman knocks before entering a lady's room."

"Indeed he does, but I see no lady." He snarled. Takara's eyes matched his, her fists clenching.

"And I see no gentleman." She snapped, carelessly throwing the necklace at her guardian's feet. His eyes narrowed as she closed her suitcase.

"I told myself the boy was lying, that it was just some cruel fiction…that _my_ Takara would never hurt me so." His tone was possessive.

"I was never _yours_ ." Takara growled, the flower in the pot to the side of the room pulsing and seeming to grow angrier with her, "I will leave this place."

"I think that only appropriate," Atemu murmured coolly, watching her eyes, "Since you no longer find my company to your liking, madam, I shall provide you with new lodgings." He stepped very close to her, holding her arms painfully tightly as he glared into her eyes. She glared back at him, not struggling, hiding her fear. "Until this moment," He muttered darkly, "I have spared the rod, and this ungrateful child has broken my heart. Now, you will learn discipline."

He motioned, Joey's form blocking the light from the doorway. She stared at the darkness, her fear revealed. She looked back at Atemu, stomping hard on the instep. He slapped her, her head turning with the blow before she glared back at him from beneath her bangs. Her teeth grit, fangs bared, eyes turned almost fuchsia and headed more and more towards gold.

"When you have learned to appreciate what you have, perhaps we shall meet again," Atemu tilted her head up, his eyes glaring into hers, "Until then, think on your sins."

"Think on your own sins," She growled, her voice one possessed, "Not on your false charges of mine."

His eyes widened as he pushed her into the far wall, her foot catching the bottom of her large mirror as she fell against the wall and sending it falling in a crash of wood and glass.

Despite that, Joey moved over to her, grabbing her by her wrist. With a loud roar, she fought against him, but to no avail. He dragged her out, still fighting.

"Takara!" Marik ran as fast as he could, just as Joey shoved her into the carriage. She looked at him, rage subsiding into fear once again as she looked at the blonde boy from out the window.


	8. Chapter 8

Joey pulled her away, just as the carriage rolled away. Marik's own fists clenched as he saw the Pharaoh on the steps.

"Where are you taking her?" He snapped, "Tell me or-"

"Would you kill me, boy?" Atemu snarled, grabbing him by the front of the shirt, "Well, here I stand!"

Marik stared, before turning, running after the carriage. He knew it was pointless, that he would never catch them. But, he had to try.

The beggar woman sat on the corner, watching the shop from behind a few locks of her dark red hair. The shop had been transformed into a first class establishment. But, she knew something was wrong. Dark green eyes shifted, her nose twitching with the smell of food and she moved slowly over to the shop, hearing voices. She didn't hear much, watching the boy and the woman who owned the shop, yelling occasionally to have her thrown out.

But, something about the place above the pie-shop made her uneasy, something familiar about the place she couldn't place. Her eyes looked up, a darker smell filling her nose. Her ears twitched, hearing things from all around. She heard everything, saw everything. She knew everything about these streets.

After the third time, she slipped back into her corner. Something was not right about that place. Curling up into her corner, she set her head on her knees, closed her eyes, and drifted off to hungry sleep.

Bakura's fingers touched a small picture, the picture of his beautiful wife and darling child. The child's face was covered by a bloodstain, a stain of his work. He stared at the picture, his eyes searching for the face beneath the blood. His eyes closed, hearing bells in distance…

…Marik stumbled through the streets, his palms pouring blood from clenching his fists for so long, his face stained with tears as it slowly began to rain.

"_I feel you,_

_Takara,_

_I feel you!_

_Do they think that walls can hide you?_

_Even now, I'm at your window._

_I am in the dark beside you,_

_Buried sweetly in your blushing hair,_

_Takara…"_

…Bakura sighed, running a hand through his hair as he began to shave one of his customers. _"And are you beautiful_

_And pale_

_With scarlet hair, _

_Like her?_

_I want you beautiful_

_And pale,_

_The way I dreamed you were,_

_Takara!"_

He sighed, slitting the man's throat as blood went everywhere. He didn't seem to mind, looking over at the picture on his counter.

"_And if you're beautiful,_

_What then,_

_With scarlet hair,_

_Like heat?_

_I think we shall not meet again_

_My little one,_

_My sweet,_

_Takara…_

_Good bye,_

_Takara,_

_You're gone,_

_And yet you're mine,_

_I'm fine,_

_Takara,_

_I'm fine…"_ He pulled the lever on the side of his chair, the body sliding down the chute.

…the beggar looked up at the chimney, her eyes wide now.

"_Smoke, _

_Smoke!_

_Sign of the devil,_

_Sign of the devil,_

_City on fire!_

_Witch, _

_Witch!_

_Smell it, sir,_

_An evil smell,_

_Every night at the vesper's bell,_

_Smoke that comes from the mouth of hell,_

_City on fire,_

_City on fire…"_

…Bakura sighed, wiping his razor, before moving over to a second customer.

"_And if I never hear your voice,_

_My little love,_

_My dear,_

_I still have reason to rejoice,_

_The way a head is clear,_

_Takara,"_ He slit this man's throat too, pulling the switch and letting the body fall again.

"_And in that darkness when I'm blind_

_With what I can't_

_Forget._

_It's always morning in my mind,_

_My little lamb,_

_My pet,_

_Takara._

_You stay, Takara,_

_The way I dreamed you are,_ " He looked out the window with a small smile. _"Oh look, Takara,_

_A star…_

_A shooting star."_

…She moved through the street, looking up at the red lit sky. Her eyes widened.

"_There, there,_

_Somebody, somebody, look up there,_

_Didn't I tell you?_

_Smell that air,_

_City on fire…_

_Quick, sir,_

_Run and tell,"_ She grabbed a man's arm, but he stared at her in shock and jerked free. _"Warn them all of the witch's spell,_

_There it is,_

_There it is,_

_The unholy smell,_

_Tell it to the Pharaoh_

_And the police as well,_

_Tell them,_

_Tell them,_

_Run_

_Flee,_

_City on fire,_

_City on fire…"_

…He sighed, sitting in his chair, looking at the picture in his hand and his razor in the other.

"_And though I'll think of you_

_I guess_

_Until the day I die._

_I think I miss you less and less_

_As every day_

_Goes by, Takara."_ He touched the picture, touched the image of Kara's face with tears in his eyes.

"_And you'd be beautiful and pale_

_And look too much like her._

_If only angels could prevail,_

_We'd be the way we were,_

_Takara."_ He looked to the sunrise, blinking his tears away. _"Wake up, Takara, another bright red day._

_We learn, Takara,_

_To say,_

_Goodbye!"_

It was a new day, Bakura and Mrs. Sohma sitting on a picnic blanket with Mokuba off flying a kite somewhere in the distance. The redhead was chattering something, now sprawled on her stomach with her chin in her hands, just talking away.

"…I mean, there's no reason we couldn't add a little bit of gentility to the place with some taxidermy animals. Maybe a boar's head or two…" She was saying, before she looked at him sharply, "Mr. Todd? Are you listening?"

"Of course," He replied in a flat, uninterested voice.

"What did I just say?" She asked, arching a brow as she watched his eyes.

Bakura said nothing for a while, lost in his own thoughts, "There must be a way to get to that Pharaoh."

Mrs. Sohma stared at him. "Him, again," She asked incredulously as she sat up on her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. He looked back at her, arching a challenging brow. She wisely chose to back down, shifting and sitting next to him with her head on his shoulder, "We've got a nice respectable business, sweetheart, with money coming in regularly and since we only use strangers who aren't going to be missed, whose going to catch on?"

Her silver-haired companion made no comment. Mrs. Sohma sighed, shaking her head, before leaning over and kissing his cheek._ "Ooh, Mr. Todd,"_ She kissed his cheek again, _"I'm so happy,"_ and again, _"I could-"_ and again, _"Eat you up,_

_I really could._

_You know what I'd like to do, _

_Mr. Todd?"_ And again, _"What I dream?" _ She kissed him again, looking into his eyes with purpose in mind. _"If the business stays as good,_

_Where I'd really like to go…_

_In a year or so…"_ There was no response from him. _"Don't you want to know?"_

"Of course," He murmured in a noncommittal way.

"_Do you really want to know?_ " This time, her tone was that of a child gloating with a secret. He rolled his eyes.

"If you're not going to tell me, then no," He stated coolly. She sighed, setting her head on his shoulder again. It was obvious she was going to tell him whether he wanted her to or not.

"I've always had this dream of living by the sea. My Auntie Alanna sent me a picture once of it once when she was on tour. It seems like such a beautiful place." Her eyes turned to Mokuba, "And that clear air would only be good for the poor boy's lungs." She shook her head, looking back at Bakura, who wiped an expression of disgust off his place. Mrs. Sohma pushed some of her hair from her head. _"By the sea,_

_Mr. Todd,_

_That's the life I'd covet,_

_By the sea,_

_Mr. Todd,_

_Ooh, I know you'd love it._

_You and me,_

_Mr. T_

_We could be alone,_

_In a house that we'd almost own,_

_Down by the sea."_

"_Anything you say," _ He murmured, rolling his eyes. She didn't stop, though.

"_With the sea at our gate,_

_We'll have kippered herring,_

_That swam straight to us,_

_From the Strait of Bering,_

_Every night,_

_In the kip,_

_When we're through our kippers,_

_I'll be there slipping off your slippers,_

_By the sea,_

_With the small fish splashing._

_By the sea,_

_Wouldn't that be smashing?_

_Down by the sea…"_

"_Anything you say,_

_Anything you say."_

"_It'll be so quiet,_

_That who'll come by it_

_Except a seagull?_

_Hoo-hoo._

_We shouldn't try it,_

_Until it's legal_

_For two."_ Bakura's eyes widened at that as he looked down at her, where she smiled up at him with her hand raised, brandishing her ring finger on her left hand.

"_But, a seaside wedding_

_Could be devised,_

_My rumpled bedding legitimized._

_My eyelids will flutter,_

_I'll turn into butter,_

_The moment I mutter_

'_I do'." _ Mrs. Sohma drew a little shaky breath. Bakura shuddered.

"_By the sea,_

_Married nice and proper._

_By the sea,_

_Bring along your chopper._

_To the seaside,_

_By the beautiful sea!"_

Days passed, the discussion of a possible marriage seeming forgotten. Mrs. Sohma knocked on the door of the shop, before stepping inside with a tray of food. "Morning," She greeted with a smile, but he was at the window again. Waiting for that elusive customer to return. Mrs. Sohma sighed a little, shaking her head. "Mr. Todd, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," He stated, not turning and not really addressing her.

"What did Mrs. Todd…you know, Kara…what did she look like?" She asked him curiously.

He turned, gaping at her. For all his efforts, the silvery-haired man could not conjure up the picture of Kara's face. He could remember the smell of her perfume and the rose pendant he had given her, but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what her face looked like.

"You can't remember, can you?" Mrs. Sohma asked, reading his mind. Her voice was sad, almost pitying.

"…she had red hair..." He finally growled at her, turning around to the window. "…dark red hair, like blood."

"You have to leave all this behind," She murmured, brushing some of her hair from her face, "She's gone, and if you keep looking down into her grave, you'll never come back up one of these days. Life is for the living."

There was no answer. He knew she was right; he just didn't want to admit it.

Mrs. Sohma smiled a little bit at him, "We could have a life together, you and I," She continued, "Maybe not like I'd dreamed, maybe not like you've remembered, but we could get by."

He turned, looking at her. She smiled brightly this time, the sun glinting off her red hair. Her eyes sparkled a little bit, skin still pale as death. "Just come away from the window." She murmured, motioning to him to walk over to her.

The bell rang, the door opening loudly as Marik stepped inside. He was bleeding hard, scabs on the inside of his palms and tear-marks on his cheeks. He nodded to the two, sitting down.

"Mr. Todd, Mrs. Sohma," He greeted briefly, then sighed, "It's like I haven't slept in a week…but I've done it." Marik gave the tiniest triumphant grin.

Bakura stared at him in surprise, looking at the blonde with renewed interest, "What's done, Marik?"

"She's locked in a madhouse." Marik groaned, "He's had her locked in a damn madhouse."


	9. Chapter 9

She smiled a little bit, taking his hand before leading him out. She opened the door to the expansive basement, walking down with him for what seemed like miles of stairs.

"My heart goes out to you, having to climb all these stairs all the time." He whispered.

Mrs. Sohma just smiled, shaking her head. "Well, that will be your job now."

"Yes, ma'am," Mokuba nodded eagerly, more than ready to help. She turned ahead, opening the door at the bottom of the stairs.

The stench was near unbearable; he saw her whole body tense and her nose wrinkle at it. The room was dark, save for the roaring fire of the closed oven. Blood ran everywhere, meat hooks, cleavers and other tools of the trade hanging from the walls. The dark-haired boy shuddered a little.

"Wow, it's really bad in here, huh?" He asked in a low voice. Mrs. Sohma nodded, motioning to the grate.

"Those grates go straight into the sewers, so the smell comes up from there, with all the dead rats and all." She made a small sound of disgust. He looked up at her, his eyes shining.

"Where do I start?"

"Here," She led him over to the far wall, "This is the bake-oven. You always put in ten dozen pies at a time and make sure the door is shut properly like this." She pointed to how it was closed.

"Ten dozen pies…closed properly, got it," He nodded. She smiled a little at how fast he was learning, walking over to the meat-grinder.

"This one's fairly straightforward. Just pop the meat in, give it a good grind and it comes out here."

"Put the meat in, grind, and the meat comes out here." Mokuba nodded again.

"…that's my boy." Mrs. Sohma whispered, kissing the top of his head, "I have to run upstairs for a little bit, I'll be back in a flash." She turned, starting towards the steps.

"Mrs. Sohma," He asked in a quiet voice, "Do you think…I could have a pie while I wait?" Mokuba stood next to the rack of cooling pies.

"As many as you like, Mokuba…" She whispered to him, "…have as many as you like."

She walked out, closing the door behind her, before latching it. She walked up the steps, her arms wrapped around her waist. A soft sob escaped her as she closed the door of the basement.

The screams were horrible, Marik almost tempted to cover his ears to block out the sound. But, dressed as a wigmaker with some experience, he couldn't. He had to appear calm, cool and collected. The owner of the asylum had already proven to be a dark man, taking no shortcuts in putting his patients in their place. He was walking beside the blonde, looking at the doors.

"…yes, sir, I believe it might be to our mutual interest for you do something about my children's hair." He moved over to one of the cells, unlocking it, "This is where I keep the redheads…you did say you wanted strawberry, yes?"

Marik nodded mutely. As they stepped in, all of the women scurried back, shades of red hair flying past him. They were obviously terrified of the man who came at them with the scissors. Marik looked them over, before his eyes came to a figure in the shadows. She was crouched like an animal, dressed in dirty straightjacket. As the owner came at her with the scissors, her violet eyes narrowed and her face contorted into a snarl. Marik could hardly believe that this was the same young woman who had begged for escape.

He pointed a shaky hand at Takara. "There, that's the shade I need."

"Right, then," The other man grabbed her arm, forcibly dragging her over towards him. Takara dug her heels in, snarling and fighting him as best she could. Her violet eyes turned fuchsia, starting to border on gold. The man shook his head. "Hopelessly deranged – poor thing's convinced she's a wild animal." He tilted Takara's head up to Marik, "Come, little one…smile a little, and you shall have a sweetie."

"I don't _need_ a-" Takara's voice trailed off as she looked at Marik's face a moment, before turning on the man holding her again, "I don't _need_ a sweetie!" She snarled, snapping at his hand. Her head turned with the slap the man gave her, Marik tensing for one horrible moment as he stared at the red mark on his beloved's pale white skin.

"Now, where shall I cut?" The man asked, as if nothing had happened. The next move seemed to be a blur.

Marik had pulled out a revolver, pointing it at the owner, pulling Takara to his side. He pushed the owner back into the cell, stepping out with his young beloved before kicking the door shut. "Not a word, sir, or it will be your last. I leave you now to the mercy of your 'children'." He smirked deviously, leading Takara out. As she stepped into the doorway, the gold tinge to her eyes faded and her body went weak. Marik dropped the revolver.

"Easy, easy…I've got you…" He murmured, sliding his arms around her waist to hold her up, "Can you still stand?" He asked, looking at her in a concerned way.

"Yeah…I'll be fine…" Takara looked back up at him, "I just…get a little woozy after I try to defend myself. I don't know why."

"It's alright," Marik smiled, keeping a careful grip on her so she didn't fall, "I'll keep you safe. You'll never have to defend yourself again, Takara."

Bakura knew that boy would be trouble, and this annoying woman had let him stay. She was crying for some weird reason, trying to brush the tears off her face. Something about those tears seemed so familiar to him, but he didn't think on it.

"I have him locked downstairs, but if he escapes…he'll go to the law." Mrs. Sohma was sniffling.

"Then we won't let him escape," Bakura flicked out his razor, looking back at the woman. The color fled from her pale face as she looked back at him.

"…Bakura," She murmured in a low voice, "I don't know…maybe we could…"

"Atemu will be here any minute," The silver-haired barber snarled in a low voice, "We have no time to argue."

They turned the corner, almost running headlong into Joey. Mrs. Sohma jumped with a squeak. "Excuse me, sir," She murmured with a small bow, "Y-you startled me."

"Sorry, I didn't meant to," Joey shook his head, "You see, I came here on business. A bunch of people were talking about the stink coming from your chimney and…with health regulations and everything, I have to have a look."

There was a long silence as Bakura and Mrs. Sohma looked at one another. Bakura finally nodded.

"Yes, of course. But, first…I did promise you a shave, didn't I?" Bakura asked with a small grin, "Please, come upstairs."

"Sorry, I have to look at the oven first." Joey shrugged, grabbing Mrs. Sohma's elbow, "C'mon, lady, I haven't got all night."

She growled, dark green eyes lightening until they were bright yellow-green. Suddenly, a large group of green vines wrapped around the blonde, before he disappeared completely. Bakura blinked in slight admiration.

"Nice job."

"Thank you." She pushed a red curl from her face. Bakura noticed that she looked more and more familiar every day. There was just something about her that made her…seem like he had seen her before. But, he didn't have time to think about it, as per usual.

"Let's go." Bakura ran down towards the basement, Mrs. Sohma trailing him like a shadow. She stepped in front of him only to open the doors. They stepped in, Bakura holding out his razor.

The grate to the sewers was open. Mrs. Sohma climbed down first, Bakura following. As if they were descending into hell.

"Mr. Todd?" Marik called, opening the door to the shop, before blinking and shrugging. "He must be out or something…" He looked at Takara, her long pink hair pulled up under a hat and dressed in loose boys' clothes, "Don't worry, no one could possibly recognize you." He smiled a little bit, "You're safe here." He watched as she looked over the collection of razors, picking up the largest one and unfolding it.

At his words, her violet eyes looked at him and she arched one perfect brow. "Safe…" She repeated quietly, "So we'll run away and all our dreams will come true?"

"I hope so," Marik murmured with a small smile. She shook her head, gazing into the razor's reflective surface with all the casualness of a young woman at her mirror.

"I've never had dreams," She mused, mostly to herself, "Only nightmares." He took both her hands in his, looking down into her eyes.

"Takara, when we're free of this place, all the ghosts will go away."

"No, Marik," She shook her head, "Ghosts never go away."

He kissed her forehead, before letting her hands free. "I'll be right back, I promise. Half an hour and we're home free."

Marik walked out as Takara watched out the window. He would never really understand anything about her. She sighed, folding the razor. But, she couldn't let go of it.


	10. Chapter 10

She smiled a little bit, taking his hand before leading him out. She opened the door to the expansive basement, walking down with him for what seemed like miles of stairs.

"My heart goes out to you, having to climb all these stairs all the time." He whispered.

Mrs. Sohma just smiled, shaking her head. "Well, that will be your job now."

"Yes, ma'am," Mokuba nodded eagerly, more than ready to help. She turned ahead, opening the door at the bottom of the stairs.

The stench was near unbearable; he saw her whole body tense and her nose wrinkle at it. The room was dark, save for the roaring fire of the closed oven. Blood ran everywhere, meat hooks, cleavers and other tools of the trade hanging from the walls. The dark-haired boy shuddered a little.

"Wow, it's really bad in here, huh?" He asked in a low voice. Mrs. Sohma nodded, motioning to the grate.

"Those grates go straight into the sewers, so the smell comes up from there, with all the dead rats and all." She made a small sound of disgust. He looked up at her, his eyes shining.

"Where do I start?"

"Here," She led him over to the far wall, "This is the bake-oven. You always put in ten dozen pies at a time and make sure the door is shut properly like this." She pointed to how it was closed.

"Ten dozen pies…closed properly, got it," He nodded. She smiled a little at how fast he was learning, walking over to the meat-grinder.

"This one's fairly straightforward. Just pop the meat in, give it a good grind and it comes out here."

"Put the meat in, grind, and the meat comes out here." Mokuba nodded again.

"…that's my boy." Mrs. Sohma whispered, kissing the top of his head, "I have to run upstairs for a little bit, I'll be back in a flash." She turned, starting towards the steps.

"Mrs. Sohma," He asked in a quiet voice, "Do you think…I could have a pie while I wait?" Mokuba stood next to the rack of cooling pies.

"As many as you like, Mokuba…" She whispered to him, "…have as many as you like."

She walked out, closing the door behind her, before latching it. She walked up the steps, her arms wrapped around her waist. A soft sob escaped her as she closed the door of the basement.

The screams were horrible, Marik almost tempted to cover his ears to block out the sound. But, dressed as a wigmaker with some experience, he couldn't. He had to appear calm, cool and collected. The owner of the asylum had already proven to be a dark man, taking no shortcuts in putting his patients in their place. He was walking beside the blonde, looking at the doors.

"…yes, sir, I believe it might be to our mutual interest for you do something about my children's hair." He moved over to one of the cells, unlocking it, "This is where I keep the redheads…you did say you wanted strawberry, yes?"

Marik nodded mutely. As they stepped in, all of the women scurried back, shades of red hair flying past him. They were obviously terrified of the man who came at them with the scissors. Marik looked them over, before his eyes came to a figure in the shadows. She was crouched like an animal, dressed in dirty straightjacket. As the owner came at her with the scissors, her violet eyes narrowed and her face contorted into a snarl. Marik could hardly believe that this was the same young woman who had begged for escape.

He pointed a shaky hand at Takara. "There, that's the shade I need."

"Right, then," The other man grabbed her arm, forcibly dragging her over towards him. Takara dug her heels in, snarling and fighting him as best she could. Her violet eyes turned fuchsia, starting to border on gold. The man shook his head. "Hopelessly deranged – poor thing's convinced she's a wild animal." He tilted Takara's head up to Marik, "Come, little one…smile a little, and you shall have a sweetie."

"I don't _need_ a-" Takara's voice trailed off as she looked at Marik's face a moment, before turning on the man holding her again, "I don't _need_ a sweetie!" She snarled, snapping at his hand. Her head turned with the slap the man gave her, Marik tensing for one horrible moment as he stared at the red mark on his beloved's pale white skin.

"Now, where shall I cut?" The man asked, as if nothing had happened. The next move seemed to be a blur.

Marik had pulled out a revolver, pointing it at the owner, pulling Takara to his side. He pushed the owner back into the cell, stepping out with his young beloved before kicking the door shut. "Not a word, sir, or it will be your last. I leave you now to the mercy of your 'children'." He smirked deviously, leading Takara out. As she stepped into the doorway, the gold tinge to her eyes faded and her body went weak. Marik dropped the revolver.

"Easy, easy…I've got you…" He murmured, sliding his arms around her waist to hold her up, "Can you still stand?" He asked, looking at her in a concerned way.

"Yeah…I'll be fine…" Takara looked back up at him, "I just…get a little woozy after I try to defend myself. I don't know why."

"It's alright," Marik smiled, keeping a careful grip on her so she didn't fall, "I'll keep you safe. You'll never have to defend yourself again, Takara."

Bakura knew that boy would be trouble, and this annoying woman had let him stay. She was crying for some weird reason, trying to brush the tears off her face. Something about those tears seemed so familiar to him, but he didn't think on it.

"I have him locked downstairs, but if he escapes…he'll go to the law." Mrs. Sohma was sniffling.

"Then we won't let him escape," Bakura flicked out his razor, looking back at the woman. The color fled from her pale face as she looked back at him.

"…Bakura," She murmured in a low voice, "I don't know…maybe we could…"

"Atemu will be here any minute," The silver-haired barber snarled in a low voice, "We have no time to argue."

They turned the corner, almost running headlong into Joey. Mrs. Sohma jumped with a squeak. "Excuse me, sir," She murmured with a small bow, "Y-you startled me."

"Sorry, I didn't meant to," Joey shook his head, "You see, I came here on business. A bunch of people were talking about the stink coming from your chimney and…with health regulations and everything, I have to have a look."

There was a long silence as Bakura and Mrs. Sohma looked at one another. Bakura finally nodded.

"Yes, of course. But, first…I did promise you a shave, didn't I?" Bakura asked with a small grin, "Please, come upstairs."

"Sorry, I have to look at the oven first." Joey shrugged, grabbing Mrs. Sohma's elbow, "C'mon, lady, I haven't got all night."

She growled, dark green eyes lightening until they were bright yellow-green. Suddenly, a large group of green vines wrapped around the blonde, before he disappeared completely. Bakura blinked in slight admiration.

"Nice job."

"Thank you." She pushed a red curl from her face. Bakura noticed that she looked more and more familiar every day. There was just something about her that made her…seem like he had seen her before. But, he didn't have time to think about it, as per usual.

"Let's go." Bakura ran down towards the basement, Mrs. Sohma trailing him like a shadow. She stepped in front of him only to open the doors. They stepped in, Bakura holding out his razor.

The grate to the sewers was open. Mrs. Sohma climbed down first, Bakura following. As if they were descending into hell.

"Mr. Todd?" Marik called, opening the door to the shop, before blinking and shrugging. "He must be out or something…" He looked at Takara, her long pink hair pulled up under a hat and dressed in loose boys' clothes, "Don't worry, no one could possibly recognize you." He smiled a little bit, "You're safe here." He watched as she looked over the collection of razors, picking up the largest one and unfolding it.

At his words, her violet eyes looked at him and she arched one perfect brow. "Safe…" She repeated quietly, "So we'll run away and all our dreams will come true?"

"I hope so," Marik murmured with a small smile. She shook her head, gazing into the razor's reflective surface with all the casualness of a young woman at her mirror.

"I've never had dreams," She mused, mostly to herself, "Only nightmares." He took both her hands in his, looking down into her eyes.

"Takara, when we're free of this place, all the ghosts will go away."

"No, Marik," She shook her head, "Ghosts never go away."

He kissed her forehead, before letting her hands free. "I'll be right back, I promise. Half an hour and we're home free."

Marik walked out as Takara watched out the window. He would never really understand anything about her. She sighed, folding the razor. But, she couldn't let go of it.


	11. Chapter 11

"Joey…Joey…no good hiding, I saw you…" A high, feminine voice called from the street. Takara blinked, looking down. A beggar woman was walking up the stairs, still calling her guardian's terrifying bodyguard.

Without thinking, the girl opened up the trunk on the far side of the room and pulled the lid down all but a crack. Watching as the woman turned around in a circle in the center of the room, humming something to herself. Takara seemed to recognize the music, but ducked even lower into the trunk as the door opened.

Bakura stared at the beggar in his shop, calling for that Wheeler boy. His eyes narrowed a little. "What're you doing here?" He snapped.

Instead of answering, she clung to his arm and began babbling, "Evil is here, sir…the stink of evil, from below…from _her_ !"

He tried to pull away, looking out the window for Atemu. He looked back at the woman in the darkness, "Be quiet!"

She did not budge, still clinging to him. "She's a demon, the Devil's daughter and wife! Beware her, sir, she with no pity…" She looked closer at him, "…in her heart."

Something about that probing gaze unnerved him, those almost glowing eyes from the shadows. "Out, now!" He ordered sharply.

"Hey…don't I know you, mister?" She asked in a low voice. Bakura could see Atemu now, approaching. What the hell was he going to do? This penniless crazy was going to get him killed, unless…Bakura snatched the second-largest razor, the largest gone missing. Savagely, he slit her throat, threw her in the chair and pulled the lever.

He had just gotten the chair back to its normal position as Atemu burst through the door. "Where is she?" The blonde asked, his eyes wide, "Where is Takara?"

"Below, my lord, with my neighbor. Thank heavens the sailor did not get his hands on her. Thank heavens, too, that she has seen the error of her ways." He fabricated. Marik should be bringing the girl as they spoke. The girl, his girl. His daughter, his last shred of his first life.

"She has?" Atemu asked, unconvinced, "She was quite…abusive when I had her taken."

"Oh, yes, sir," Bakura smirked on the inside, knowing that on the inside, his Takara must be a fiery young thing with all her mother's rebelliousness, "Your lesson is well-learned. She speaks only of you, and she yearns for your forgiveness."

"Then she shall have it…" He believed him now, as he sighed and shook his head impatiently, "You said she will be here soon?"

"_I think I hear her now…"_

"Excellent, my friend!"

"_Is that her dainty foot upon the stair?"_

"I hear nothing."

"_Yes, isn't that her shadow on the wall?"_

"Where?!" Atemu turned around as Bakura pointed.

"There! _Primping, _

_Making herself even prettier than usual…"_

"_Even prettier…"_ The blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

"_If possible…"_ Bakura supplied, rolling his eyes when the Pharaoh couldn't see. He looked down at his group of razors, still missing that largest one. Where could it have gone?

"_Ooh,_

_Pretty women…"_

"_Pretty women, yes…" _ He murmured absently. Where was it? He didn't just lose his friends like that!

Atemu adjusted his jacket around his shoulders, "Quickly, a splash of bay rum!"

"Sit, sir, sit. I'm sure we have more than enough time." Bakura smirked at him, "You know how girls take their time."

He sat in Bakura's chair as the white-haired barber took a bottle of bay rum off his shelf. The barber tied a towel around his customer's neck, smoothing on the bay rum and starting to shave.

"_Pretty women…_

_Pretty women…_

_Are a wonder…"_

"You're in a merry mood again tonight, sir." Atemu pointed out absently. Bakura smiled cheerfully, innocently.

"_Pretty women!"_ He intoned again.

"_What we do for_

"_Pretty women, blowing out their candles or_

_combing out their hair…_

"_Then, they leave._

_Even when they leave you_

_and vanish, they somehow_

_can still remain there with you,_

_there with you…" _ Atemu smiled a little bit, "How seldom it is one meets a kindred spirit."

"Mmm…someone with shared tastes…" Bakura's fingers clenched a little tighter around his razor, "In women, at least." His tone was venomous now.

"What?" Atemu looked up at Bakura's face. A malicious grin spread across the barber's face.

"The years have now doubt changed me, sir. But, then again, the face of a mere prisoner – the face of an ex-thief – is not particularly memorable to you, is it?" Bakura asked, glaring into those violet eyes. Those eyes widened in horror.

"…Ryou Barker…" He breathed.

"RYOU BARKER!" Bakura's first name seemed to make him all the more enraged as he slashed at the Pharaoh's throat, pulled the lever and the body fell down the chute. The body fell, blood spattered everywhere.

His vengeance was done. He sank to his knees, finally free of his deadly obsession. He sighed, looking down at the razor in his hand.

"_Rest now,_

_My friends._

_Rest now forever._

_Sleep the untroubled…_

_Sleep of the angels…" _ He smiled just sitting there on his knees. He was finally free. He sighed, starting to stand before he heard a muffled thump.

He stepped over to the trunk, pulling the lid open and hauling out a ragged young man with the largest razor in his hand.

"Come for a shave, have you, lad?" He asked, hurling the boy into the chair. Violet eyes…familiar violet eyes lightened as the boy flicked out the razor and pointed it at him.

"No, Mr. Todd, I haven't." He spoke with a feminine voice, before he sighed and pulled off his hat. Long hair tumbled down…the girl's back at she looked back at him. "Thanks for not selling me out. I can only return the favor."

His eyes widened, stinging with tears. "T-Takara?" He whispered, stepping forward towards her. The bloody razor fell out of his hand, "Is that you? My daughter?" He stepped forward again, sliding his arms around her.

He felt her bury her face in his shoulder, heard her sniffle a little before wriggling free. "Alright, alright, no need to get mushy on me." She smiled a little, before they heard Mrs. Sohma's shrill scream.

"Don't move until Marik gets back," Bakura kissed his child's forehead, "If he does before I come back…" He folded the razor for her and pressed it into her palm, "Keep this…but forget my face." He turned, running down the stairs and slamming the door behind him.

"DIE!" Mrs. Sohma screeched, wrenching at her skirt where Atemu still clung to it, "JUST DIE!"

She finally pulled away, his grip released. She suddenly saw the face, the familiar body of the one she had not seen before. "You?" She asked quietly, moving forward, "Have all the ghosts of my past come to torment me?"

But, she was a sensible girl, so she just shook her head and started to drag the woman's body towards the oven. Bakura ran in, looking at her.

"Why did you scream?" He asked, looking from her to the bodies. Mrs. Sohma shook her head.

"He was hanging onto my skirt, but he's dead now." She continued dragging. Bakura shook his head, moving forward to help.

"Just open the doors." He ordered, motioning towards the oven.

"No, don't touch her!" She argued.

"I said just open the doors!" He shoved her towards the oven, picking up the body, "What's the matter with you? It's just some common beggar from the street." He rolled his eyes.

She opened the doors just as he looked down. His eyes widened and she knew he knew.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh…no! 'Don't I know you?' She said…" He looked up, his eyes meeting the green ones of Mrs. Sohma, "You knew she lived…from the minute I set foot inside…before then…you knew she lived!"

"I was thinking of you…" Mrs. Sohma sniffled, "I was just thinking of you."

"_Kara…"_ He held her body to his chest.

"Your KARA! A penniless hag picking bones out of the trashcans! Do you think you wanted to know that she ended up like that? Do you think _I_ wanted to tell you that my twin ended up like-?"

"Your twin?" He stared at her as she clapped one hand over her mouth, suddenly noticing why she had looked so familiar, "Kira Minnamino?" He asked in a shaky voice. Of course! Kara's identical twin sister, Kira.

"No," She shook her head, "Kira Sohma. I married Kyo in a proper ceremony, I still carry his name."

"You lied to me!" He accused in a broken voice, "You lied to me and let your own sister rot in the streets!"

_No, no, not lied at all,_

_No, I never lied…"_

"_Kara…" _ Bakura sobbed, resting his forehead against that of his wife.

"_I told you I took the poison,_

_But I never said she died…"_ She spoke quickly, as if trying to get him to ignore her chatter once again, _"Poor thing, she lived,"_

"_I've come home again…"_ He whispered to the woman in his arms, brushing her hair out of her face.

"_But it left her wrong in the head,_

_All she did for months was just lie there in bed."_

"_Kara…"_

"_Should've been in a hospital,_

_Ended up in a madhouse instead!_

_Poor thing…"_

"_Oh, my God,"_

"_Better you should think she was dead…"_ Kira stepped forward, setting a hand on his cheek, _"Yes, I lied because I love you…"_

"_Kara…" _ He jerked away from her and Kira stepped back again, looking down at the ground as her fists clenched tighter.

"_I'd be twice the wife she was!_

_I love you!_

_Could a thing like that_

_Have loved you like me?_

_No, she was too busy in it for herself,_

_Without a thought for what she_

_Would lose in it!"_ She glared up at him, tears in her eyes. _"She would've lost you, but she didn't care,_

_Left you for him,_

_When you were out there._

_Out scouring the world _

_Looking for her jewels,_

_And she was unfaithful,_

_Unfaithful and cruel,"_ Bakura didn't seem to hear her as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"_Takara,_

_my niece is shared, _

_Because she's yours and his…_

_The man whose life you took,_

_So, I guess that in the end…_

…_Kara's the one that really wins."_

This time, she had his full attention. He looked from Kara, to where the body of the Pharaoh lay; the firelight and shadows making his face up into a terrible, triumphant grin. Bakura buried his face into her neck.

"_What have I done?"_ He cried, before setting the body of his wife on the stone and looking up at Kira with a smile. _"Kira Sohma,_

_You're a bloody wonder._

_Eminently practical,_

_Yet appropriate as always._

_As you've said repeatedly,_

_There's little point in dwelling on the past." _ He stepped towards her and she stepped back. He held out his hand for hers. _"No, no, come here my love,_

_Not a thing to fear,"_

"_Do you really mean it?"_ She asked softly, before looking down at the body of her sister in front of her before looking back at his eyes, _"Everything I did,_

_I swear,_

_Was because I thought it was best."_

"_My love…_

_What's dead,_

_Is dead."_ He assured her, his hand still out towards her as he watched her eyes.

"_Believe me!"_ She pleaded, _"Could we still be…_

_Married?"_

He took another step towards her, and she knew what was coming. But, she still stepped into his arms as he began to waltz her around the room.

"_The history of the world, my pet,"_ He crooned to her softly. He could feel her tears against his chest.

"_Oh, Mr. Todd,_

_Ooh, Mr. Todd,_

_Leave it to me…"_

"_Is learn forgiveness,_

_And try to forget." _ He waltzed her towards the oven, but she kept lithely waltzing with him. She offered him no resistance, simply looking up at him with a small smile. A tear fell down her pale cheek, reminding him of how Kara used to cry when he would go away. He brushed her tear away with his thumb.

"_And life is for the alive,_

_My dear._

_So let's keep living it…"_

Now, her voice joined his, _"Just keep living it,_

_Really living it…"_

He flung her into the oven, slamming the door behind her. Strangely, he heard no screams of agony, just the wailing sobs of the names of her two beloved sons.

He walked back to Kara, cradling her head in his arms, his tears returning. _"There was a barber and his wife,_

_And she was beautiful…_

_A foolish barber and his wife,_

_She was his reason and his life,_

_And she was beautiful._

_And she was virtuous,_

_And he was…"_ His voice stopped as he saw the drain push itself out. A very filthy Mokuba climbed out. They watched each other for a long time. Mokuba drew out a razor and Bakura didn't moved, before finally setting Kara on the ground and unbuttoning his collar. He leaned his head back as the boy slit his throat. Blood pooled around the two as Bakura fell at Kara's side…dead.

He was finally free.


End file.
